


"Happy Mama's Day, Mama!"

by wordstothewisereaders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby!Sam, Dean and Mary hug it out, Gen, Mother's Day, SPN - Freeform, Toddler!Dean, adorable baby dean is excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: It was May, 8, 1983, a beautiful Lawrence Sunday full of clear skies and sunshine. Dean Winchester was four years old. Sam would be exactly a week old the next day. The last six days had been an amazing kind of chaotic with the new baby. John made extra sure to help Mary, leaving Dean to his own devices. He understood because he knew that Sam was a big responsibility alone and tried to pitch in in his own little adorable ways that left his mama smiling.It was Mother's Day, and Dean had never been so excited.





	"Happy Mama's Day, Mama!"

It was May, 8, 1983, a beautiful Lawrence Sunday full of clear skies and sunshine. Dean Winchester was four years old. Sam would be exactly a week old the next day. The last six days had been an amazing kind of chaotic with the new baby. John made extra sure to help Mary, leaving Dean to his own devices. He understood because he knew that Sam was a big responsibility alone and tried to pitch in in his own little adorable ways that left his mama smiling.

The previous day, John had pulled Dean aside, explaining to him that Mother’s Day was tomorrow. He had told his oldest that it was important day for his mom and that he wanted Dean to assist him in making it special. Dean had been all for it, eagerly bouncing off to make Mary a card.

The next morning, he had woken up early, excited to do something to please his mother. He had tried to get dressed completely by himself, buttoning his tiny plaid shirt in the wrong holes. Dean bounded down to the kitchen as quietly as he could, passing his parent’s room in silence.

John was standing at the sink, a cup of coffee in his hands. He turned when he heard little footsteps.

“You’re up early, buddy.” he commented, ruffling Dean’s messy hair.

“It’s Mama’s Day, and you said we’re s'posed to make it special, so I got up so’s we can start.” Dean explained matter-of-factly.

“You did? Well, what’re we waiting for then? How ‘bout we make Mama breakfast in bed?” John asked, chuckling at the eager little boy.

“M'kay!”

Dean insisted upon choosing what they 'made’. It ended up being a well put together bowl of Fruit Loops, an orange and some coffee just the way Mary liked it. Dean had brought his card, propping it on the tray.

John carried the tray down the hallway, letting Dean take it from the bedroom door. He knocked lightly.

Mary sat up and stretched as Dean toddled in as carefully as he could.

“What’s this?” Mary asked enthusiastically.

“We made you breakfast, Mama.” Dean said proudly, handing it up to her.

“I think it was more like Dean made you breakfast. In all fairness, all I did was pour the milk.” John laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

“C'mere, baby.” Mary said, setting the tray aside so she could take Dean into her arms.

She pulled her son to her tight, hugging him with more love than she ever had.

“Happy Mama’s Day, Mama!” Dean said happily.

He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and squeezed her into the best little kid hug ever had.

* * *

It was May 14, 2017, a beautiful Lebanon Sunday full of clear skies and sunshine. Dean Winchester was 38 years old. Sam had just turned 34 two weeks prior. John was dead. Mary was in a state of post-mortem shock that hadn’t left her since she pulled herself from her grave months earlier. It was the second Mother’s Day Sam would experience with his Mom alive and the first where the relationship was rocky. It was Dean’s fifth, not nearly as sweet as his fourth.

Dean had woken up early, earlier than normal, in a cold sweat that usually came with nightmares. Not this time, though. No, this time it was from a pleasant memory in dream form that he hadn’t thought of in years. He could still remember that day over 30 years ago plain as day. It was sweet, one of the happiest memories he had. The last Mother’s Day he thought he would ever celebrate with her. Now here he was in a bad predicament thirty-four years later.

Dean and Mary were still having major issues after she had walked out the door twice in the past months. Dean felt utterly abandoned, and if it weren’t for Sammy, he would honestly say he didn’t blame her. It didn’t mean he didn’t love her still.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat and trying to ward off the burning behind his eyes. Reluctantly, he pulled himself from bed and stumbled to the kitchen, desperate for coffee to wake him from his trance.

Sam waited for him, already bright-eyed and awake.

The older Winchester grumpily plopped down in front of his brother, unable to rid himself of the images that should make him feel nostalgic, not depressed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked weirdly.

“Nothing. ’m good, Sammy.” Dean replied, staring at his cup.

“Whatever.”

They left it at that, knowing that Dean would talk if he absolutely had to later.

* * *

The day passed with little event. Mary made an appearance, grabbing food before retreating back to her room.

Dean felt an unfamiliar guilt weighing in his chest along with a sorrow he hadn’t felt in ages. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he knew that it was because he was desperate for his mom to come back to him. He thought he had ridden himself of those pangs of longing years after she had gone, but now that she was back, they were also.

He left the bunker that afternoon, telling Sam he would be back later and not to ask any questions. He didn’t think he could answer them without going on an emotional rampage anyhow.

The nearest jewelry store was a half hour away, and Dean had delved into his pool hustling money to draw out enough. Luckily, they were open and he did the absolute best that he could on picking out something her taste. Next was the emergency flower and card store closer to the bunker that was open for all of the holidays men usually forgot about until the last minute.

Dean returned home before dark, narrowly missing supper. He picked up a burger on the way in, too focused to care.

He snuck back in without any notice, making sure that the small box and card went unnoticed.

Mary was locked away in her room again, having not acknowledged Sam at all.

Dean knocked on her door hesitantly, scared to death and a little sad. When she didn’t answer, he cracked the door open and peeked in.

Mary was sitting on her bed, staring at her phone blankly.

“Uh, Mom?” Dean asked shakily.

Mary’s head jerked up and she stood quickly, confused.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, sounding just as nerve-y as him.

“No- I, um…Can I come in for a minute?”

She stepped aside, allowing him in before closing the door.

“I…I have no idea where to start with this, so um, remember that day when Dad and I made you breakfast in bed?” Dean asked, closing his eyes as he waited for rejection.

“I- Yes, I do. When you said you made it all by yourself?” she asked, smiling wearily.

Dean nodded, pulling out the gifts from his pockets. He held them out to her, slipping them into her hands.

“Well this is to make up for all of the years we didn’t get to do that again. I’m sorry.” Dean explained, throat tightening. 

“Oh, Dean…” Mary whispered, toying  with the silver heart shaped pendant sitting in the box.

Dean watched her carefully, still afraid of a negative reaction, as he noticed a tear slip down her own cheek.

The next thing he knew, Dean was in his mom’s arms, hugging her protectively with tears of his own finally escaping.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.” Dean choked out.

“I love you, Dean.”

 

 

 

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